Free and Forgotten - The 53rd Hunger Games
by jessicallons-y
Summary: 'The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.' Ladies and gentlemen, the 53rd Hunger Games.
1. Prologue

**_Chapter 1_**

_~ Prologue ~_

* * *

Days have been busy in the Capitol. Workers were clocking in at dawn and out at midnight. Cars of different colors and sizes flooded the streets of the city. The more wealthy folk planned parties and gatherings in their respective mansions. Everyone was invited, and the main topic over wine was always the same. The Capitol was never more alive than this time of year because as summer draws to a close, the season of the annual Hunger Games begins.

Amidst all the activity bursting about in the Capitol, a man at twenty-five sat behind a newly varnished mahogany table in a luxurious office covered in velvet. His blank eyes focused on the flat screen television as blaring music began to play and Caesar Flickerman appeared sitting comfortably in his chair with aqua colored hair slicked black and navy blue lipstick. Beside him on another chair sat a beautiful lady of eighteen with short brown hair falling above her shoulders in ringlets and bright bronze eyes shaded with blue makeup.

"Good morning, Panem!" Caesar greeted the camera with a winning smile. "Please welcome our guest for today's interview, the one and only victor of the fifty-second Hunger Games, Erizelda Morrison!"

Cheers and applause followed after Caesar's introduction. Zelda hopped up on her feet and curtsied. She blew kisses at the camera and returned to her seat.

"You look _stunning_, Zelda," Caesar complimented her after gently kissing the back of her hand. Back in the office, the man who watched rolled his eyes. "Of course, I'm not surprised," Caesar continued with a chuckle. "You've always looked beyond perfect."

"You flatter me, Caesar," Zelda said, her voice echoing like Christmas bells from the speakers. "You'll have to thank my stylist. She did well, but I'm starting to get curious about all the blue."

"That is for me to know, and for you to find out." Caesar winked. "Although I would have expected you to know by now. You _have_ been very cozy with the Head Gamemaker for the past year."

"It hasn't been a year yet," Zelda answered. "Almost. But no, he hasn't told me anything. He's very secretive when it comes to his work."

"Is keeping secrets good for a relationship?" Caesar asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I think it goes both ways. It can be good and it can be bad too. There are just some things that are better left unsaid."

Caesar gave her a sympathetic look. "I know how you feel."

He didn't.

But nevertheless, Zelda nodded with a smile and Caesar continued on with the interview.

"Enough about your love life. I'm sure Panem gets enough of that from the paparazzi following you two around everywhere you go!"

"They're rather distracting when we go out for brunch," Zelda answered with a nonchalant shrug.

"Exactly," Caesar chuckled. "Let's talk about your time here in the Capitol! How did it feel to make that decision of moving out of District Eight and with Mr. Creswell here?"

"It was difficult," the brunette sighed, "but I knew the right answer the second I was asked that question the first time. There was nothing left in District Eight for me except for all the bad memories and the person I had been before my Games. I wanted to start a new life, a new me, and I believed the Capitol was the best place for that."

"What about Franco? Did put an influence to your final decision?"

"Of course he did," Zelda added in hurriedly. "He's a really good man, and I feel completely safe with him. My brother didn't quite approve of my decision, but I still visit him every month."

"Do you miss District Eight?"

The victor smiled. "No."

"I'm glad you found a home in the Capitol then, Zelda." Caesar returned the smile. "Now what are you expecting for the fifty-third Hunger Games? We all know you'll be mentoring for one of District Eight's tributes alongside Roman Valdez."

"I definitely am expecting a lot from this year's Games," Zelda answered somewhat hesitantly. "It's going to be a big one, and I'm sure that Franco has some big plans. I'm excited to mentor too. Teaching tributes and all that... Hopefully they don't die fast..."

Caesar seemed to have noticed the change of mood in his interviewee and hastily changed the subject to her parents. Knowing what was coming next, Franco raised his remote control and switched the television off. The door suddenly burst open and the real Zelda Morrison stormed in. She threw him a glare and closed the door behind her with a loud bang.

"Who said you could watch the replay?" Zelda snapped irately, gesturing to the blank television. Franco innocently blinked at her.

"I'm not watching anything."

"Don't even try lying to an expert liar, Franco. I could hear my own voice from the receptionist's table."

"I missed it yesterday, okay?" Franco tried to reason with her, getting up from his seat.

"You always miss the live airing of my interviews," Zelda grumbled.

Franco crossed his arms. "So it's my fault now?"

"I didn't say that."

"Implied," Franco mumbled.

Zelda threw her hands up in the air. "You know what, whatever. I didn't want you seeing that interview anyways because it was embarrassing."

"Your answers are the same all the time," Franco replied with a roll of his eyes. "I don't understand why you think it's so embarrassing."

"You're just lucky I'm a good liar, Franco. If the Capitol weren't so daft, they'd be seeing through my answers soon enough."

"Well the Capitol _is_ daft so nothing to worry about."

Franco walked past her and swiftly left his office. Zelda sighed and crossed her arms.

"That new uniform isn't working for you!" she yelled before he was out of earshot.

He shouted a swear word back, but Zelda could hear the smirk in his tone.

She had gotten used to his behavior by now. Franco will always be Franco, and he always had the tendency to dramatize things. The past year had not been too bad on her. In fact looked back, she realized it was rather thrilling. It all started when she ran away with the Head Gamemaker in the dead of night without telling anyone where she was going. Franco had revealed to her the president's plans for her as victor, and he shared his clever idea to keep those plans from pushing through.

Instead of being forced into bed by a random stranger from the Capitol, Zelda settled as the Head Gamemaker's lover. She moved into a fancy apartment in the city with him, and modeled for fashion magazines. When she wasn't working, she was with Franco as he accomplished his duties as Head Gamemaker. During the first few weeks of living together as an actual couple, it had been too uncomfortable for the pair to even sleep in the same room. It was only two months later did Zelda actually feel things for the man, and she had the most awkward first kiss in her entire life. But despite their dysfunctionalities, Zelda still considered it her longest lasting relationship, and she had been with a lot of men. This made Franco very special to her.

Now that the scheduled reapings were in a few days, both Zelda and Franco were busier than ever. Zelda was in demand to model for the cover pages of a variety of magazine companies. They all wanted the latest victor for the month's issue. While Zelda answered calls back and forth, Franco put his last minute changes on his arena that Zelda was yet to see. But based on Caesar's new look and the sudden change of color of the Gamemaker uniform, Zelda could safely assume that there was going to be _a lot_ of blue.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_I said I'd upload this in a day or two, but I got excited. Anyway it's back to the beginning from here._

_Hello there! You may not have read my first SYOT, Our Last Days, so I'll introduce myself again. My name is Jess. This is my second SYOT, and though it is a sequel to my first, you're not obligated to read it if you don't want to. I'm starting fresh with new characters and I would be very happy if you think of submitting._

_All the details are already on my profile, but please note that there is no rush in making a tribute since it is technically NOT first come first serve. The list of accepted tributes will be posted in a week so you have one week to make your tribute and send it to me. This system was borrowed from TallTalesInk. Tales makes SYOTs too so check that out!_

_Hopefully I do get enough tributes in a week. Anyway again, all the details are on my profile so go check it out if you're interested! Zelda by the way was the victor of my last story. I'm pretty confident that this story will have a victor too. I'm just saying, I don't plan on abandoning this. :)_

_~jess_

_P.S. The quote in the story summary is from Ernest Hemingway. He's a brilliant American author._


	2. The Youth Part 1

**_Chapter 2_**

* * *

_~ District 1 ~_

**Pompous Lebeau, 16**

* * *

A slim light-haired boy made his way across the training area for hand-to-hand combat. His steps were loud and precise, and his chin was tilted up. An aura of superiority radiated from his posture alone. A group of boys who sparred in the center of the matted area abruptly stopped. Their heads turned one by one, each one of them eyeing the confident sixteen year-old with a mixture of curiosity and malice. The tallest of the group of three spoke up first.

"Where you off to, Pompous?" he asked with a slight smirk. "Get yourself into trouble again?"

Pompous hid his irritation with a fake smile. He halted right in front of the three, and turned to face them.

"Where did you get _that_ idea, Obsidian?" he asked with a raised brow. "I don't get myself into trouble."

Obsidian huffed. "Yeah, we know. People accuse you."

"Precisely." Pompous grinned. "I do nothing wrong. It's only natural for people to attempt to put the blame on someone else to keep themselves safe. It's not a coincidence that all those accusations were from people who loathed my very existence."

"Why would they hate you then?" Obsidian spat. "Giving me those lies will do nothing to your actual case. They hate you because it was _you_ who did all of those things."

"I'm sorry, but my _case_ is supposed to be in that room over there." He pointed over at the wooden door with a shiny brass handle by the corner of the area. "I'm wasting my time here, listening to your idiotic assumptions."

"Don't even try those big words on me." Obsidian stomped his foot in annoyance. "It's not going to work. I _know_ it was you."

Deciding to finally drop the act, his smile fell and his shoulders slumped down. He took a big step closer to Obsidian, and leaned forward by his ear.

"If you try _anything_ to sell me out, I'm going to make sure that on the first day of the Games, your big sister will be lying dead on the grass with a slit on her throat."

Obsidian stood firm on his ground, refusing to show any form of weakness. Instead he stayed quiet as Pompous took a step back, an easy smile back on his face. He then pulled out a shiny green gemstone from the pocket of his trousers. An emerald.

"That's the emerald from Head Trainer Paloma's office," Obsidian breathed. "I knew it was you."

"I didn't take it," Pompous snorted, tossing it up in the air and catching it with his right hand. "That would take too much effort. I made someone else do it."

Suddenly the similar-looking boy beside Obsidian spoke. "Why would you need that emerald? You're rich enough, aren't you?"

"It would be a mouthful to explain to you, Agate," Pompous sighed with fake sympathy. "Your lives are far too simple to relate to mine. And your patience is too thin to even attempt on understanding my little sister, and why she suddenly wanted an emerald for her seventh birthday. She wanted no ordinary emerald either. Not any of the ones we could find in our house."

He pocketed the gemstone, and clapped his hands together with a grin.

"As much as I would love to stay and chat, I have to go and convince Paloma that Shinley's the thief. See you in two minutes!"

* * *

**Peridot Herveaux, 16**

* * *

At six in the evening, the sky grew darker. Peridot pulled the hood of her jacket up, and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. She walked quicker into a deserted alleyway, away from the group of merchant houses she just passed. It began to drizzle, and she broke out into a sprint. Finally at the end of the alley, it was a bit lighter. She stood in front of a smaller civilization of District One. Men and women scurried about, taking all their things indoor and dragging their children back inside their bungalows.

Peridot's house was the first house to the right once she reached the end of the alleyway. It was one of the bigger bungalows of their little village, but that didn't change the fact that it was one of the smallest houses in District One. Peridot pulled out her house key, but before she could do anything the front door swung open. She was rather surprised to see a tall, rather muscular girl with brown hair and eyes standing on her doorstep.

"Allure?" she greeted her in a questioning tone. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just visited for a while," Allure said with a nervous chuckle. "I wanted to see you actually, but I only found your mother. We talked."

Peridot blinked. "About what?"

"Nothing of importance," Allure said. "Just wishing her good luck. You too. I mean now that you're here. Good luck."

She offered Peridot a smile. The shorter brunette returned it with a soft smile of her own. With a quick wave, Allure sidestepped Peridot and ran through the rain. Peridot watched her until she disappeared into the darkness of the alleyway, to return to her better and more privileged life in the other end of that path. Still a bit confused about the recent happenings, she finally stepped into her home and threw her damp jacket on the couch. Her mother, Silvera, almost immediately appeared from the kitchen.

"Your friend was here," she said with a pointed look.

"Do my ears deceive me?" A tall fair-haired boy came skipping from the hallway. "Did Peridot _actually _have a friend over?"

"Go back to your room, Obsidian," Peridot snapped, following her mother into the kitchen.

"Yes, do so." Silvera nodded as she set the table. "Dinner is almost ready. Go get your brothers."

Peridot took a seat as Obsidian left the room with his mother's orders.

"So you're really volunteering this year then, are you?" Silvera asked, avoiding her daughter's eye as she placed the food in the middle of the table.

Peridot wrinkled her nose, and put her head down. "I know what you're going to say."

"I'm sure," Silvera chuckled as she took a seat of her own. "You don't have to do this."

"Wrong," Peridot said monotonously. "I have to."

"Of course you don't _have_ to," her mother snapped. "The Academy gives you a choice on this, do they not?"

The brunette scoffed. "It's barely a choice. They're just using their words to make you _think_ that you actually have a choice when in reality, it's take it or our whole family is at stake. If I don't agree, we'll all be outcasts. And mom, even you have got to admit that we need that prize money."

Silvera sighed, a sad look in her eyes. "When was the last time you talked to Allure, Peridot?"

The Career lifted her head up. "I don't know. Before she started talking to Pompous Lebeau most probably."

"Well, she seems to have a lot of faith in you volunteering this year."

Peridot pursed her lips. Allure had been one of her first friends when she started training, but like all the other girls she used to talk to, she changed. Allure trained harder than ever, as she desired to be picked one day to volunteer for the Hunger Games. While Peridot trained just as hard, her desire to be picked was much less than the other girls who dreamt of slaughtering others in the arena. Because of this, girls from the Academy hadn't liked her very much. In the end, even Allure had deserted her and clung onto the wealthy swordsman, Pompous Lebeau. It was surprising that Allure had bothered to wish her luck.

When Peridot hadn't responded, Silvera put an end to the conversation. The four younger Herveaux boys burst into the room and took their seats around the dinner table. They all bowed their heads as Silvera blessed the meal.

* * *

_~ District 3 ~_

**Huxley Locke, 14**

* * *

The monotonous words of the teacher slipped in one ear and out the other. Huxley was on the verge of falling asleep in the useless class of biology. He much rather enjoyed chemistry because of the mathematics involved with it, but despite Huxley's advanced reading on the subject, he was forced to stay seated in class with the rest of the fourteen year-olds who were required to take biology as a subject.

Only when Mrs. Bolt allowed them to do research on DNA did Huxley perk up. The word research seemed to have been a trigger for his hand to instantly dig into his bag, and pull out his old, worn, but still well functioning laptop. He placed the gadget on his table, and lifted up the lid. Before Huxley could turn the power on, the biology teacher snapped his name.

"Mr. Locke! What do you think you're doing?"

Huxley blinked, clearly confused with his teacher's sudden outburst. "Er... Researching?"

A few of his classmates snickered. He could feel the heat rise up to his cheeks. Obviously he had done something wrong that he still had not realized.

"When I meant do your research, I meant read the chapters on DNA on your _biology book_," Mrs. Bolt said slowly as if she were talking to a mere child. "Get your reading materials, Mr. Locke. Keep that gadget."

"Reading materials," Huxley muttered bitterly. "Right."

And so the boy slipped his laptop back inside his bag, and brought out his book for biology. After the second page, Huxley's forehead fell heavily on the papers with a thump. The bell rung fifteen minutes later, and only then did Huxley sit up straight again with a sleepy look in his eye. Mrs. Bolt had not noticed his obvious lack of focus on the subject, but the rest of his classmates did. Hiding his face from their smothered laughs, he briskly walked out of the classroom. He was about to sprint down the corridor for his next class (which was Computer Science so he was almost always first in the classroom), but someone grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.

"Whoa there," a small blonde laughed when he turned around with wide, alert eyes. "You really should take it easy. Not everyone's trying to come and get you."

Huxley released a small chuckle. The girl's name was Techa, and their anti-social tendencies brought them together as friends if that even made sense at all. They were an odd pair. Techa was five feet flat with bright hair and eyes. Huxley was taller by about six inches, and was rather dull when it came to his appearance. With brown hair and brown eyes, there wasn't much going for him that was very memorable.

He took in the look on Techa's face, and almost immediately did he know what she was about to say.

"Don't think about it too much," Huxley said before she could speak. "Yeah, I got that."

Techa raised her eyebrows at him. "How'd you know I was going to say that?"

"Your forehead creases and your eyes always get shifty whenever you say that to me," Huxley replied in a quick, snappish tone. It was not that he was irritated. It was just the way he spoke, and to people who weren't Techa, he would seem a tad rude.

"Right," Techa chuckled. "And I say that all the time?"

"Yes, you do."

"Well okay then." The blonde cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry," Huxley said, standing awkwardly. "Did I say something to offend you?"

"No. Of course not." Techa shook her head with a smile. "I'm just– Well, just don't mind the class. Thinking about them too much will just lead to you believing that you really did something wrong. And you did nothing wrong... But I do think you should try new things you know. Mrs. Bolt was kind of right. There are things in a book that you can't find in your gadgets. And if I were you, I'd see it from a bigger perspective. There are so many other activities and hobbies out there that you can find fun in too. It doesn't always have to be all technology with you, Huxley."

"I don't remember Mrs. Bolt saying that," Huxley stated, but he was getting her point.

"Maybe that's because you were too busy drooling over the chapters we were supposed to read," Techa replied humorously. "Now come on. We'll be late for Computer Science."

With the mention of Huxley's favorite subject, he turned on his heel and brisk-walked to the classroom. Techa sighed, and jogged after him.

* * *

**Zaria Falon, 14**

* * *

The second Zaria stepped in her home she was beyond shocked. Standing in her living room were her parents, still in their work clothes and looking rather cheerful. Zaria had not known what to ponder on first. It was either the fact that they were home way too early than they were supposed to be, or that her mother had a big grin on her face. Both facts proved to make Zaria feel very uneasy, but she closed the door behind her and shakily stood before her parents.

"Mom, Dad," she greeted them. "You're both early today."

Her mother, Jocelyn, had seen her first, and immediately her smile fell. Looking over

"Straighten your back, Zaria," she snapped. "Do you really walk around school with your back hunched like that?"

Zaria did as she asked without saying a word. Jocelyn's eyes looked her over as if she were trying to find another fault. Her father, Dalton, though had offered her a smile. Zaria was too afraid to return it. Jocelyn finally shifted away from her youngest child, and the smile returned on her face. She stepped into a hallway that led to her kitchen. As soon as she was out of eye and earshot, Zaria slouched and bolted up the staircase.

Why her parents were home so early was beyond her, but that only meant one thing. Her mother would be giving out orders in about twenty minutes once she feels that she's doing too much by herself. If Zaria were lucky, she'd call on Esme or Hunter to help her first. But Zaria knew she couldn't take any chances. Her precious twenty minutes of freedom shan't go to waste. As soon as she walked into her room, she unzipped her bag and spilled all its contents on her study table. Homework wasn't going to do itself.

As she tried to answer the biology homework given to the class by Mrs. Bolt, Zaria found it rather hard to concentrate. Her parents were well-respected engineers in the District, and they work day and night in their factory. Zaria rarely ever got to see her father even. She saw her mother more often, but she did nothing but give Zaria instructions, and snap at her if she made a mistake. It was odd to see her mother with a smile instead of a scowl on her face, and her father home before ten in the evening. Obviously homework wasn't the biggest matter in the household. There was something else going on.

Ultimately giving up on her attempt to finish her biology worksheet, she picked out a creased rectangular piece of paper with printed writing in cursive. On the paper was a congratulatory note from her school because she graduated middle school with honors. It had not seemed to be very big achievement when she received it this morning, but maybe it would get her parents to give more attention to her hard work and how that had paid off for her; not just for Esme or Hunter.

Satisfied with her plan, she proceeded to continue with her homework. There was a knock on her door all too soon. Hunter popped his sandy-haired head in.

"Mom's calling," he grunted.

"Already?" Zaria replied in a rather sarcastic tone.

"Yeah. Esme's on her way home. She said to fix the living room because she's having some friends over."

"Alright," Zaria said with a nod as she stacked the books by size on her table. Before Hunter could leave, she spoke again. "Why are they home so early?"

Hunter sighed. "We're having a dinner celebration for Esme. She found out this morning that she was number one overall in her batch in last year's standing." There was silence. Then Hunter irately added, "This is a load of bull because when I told them I was skipping a grade because the math was too basic for me, they didn't plan any celebration."

With a roll of his eyes, Hunter pulled his head out and closed the door. Zaria was left alone in her room, with a certificate that made her feel incredibly stupid. She crumpled the piece of paper in her fist and threw it in the trash bin. Since she was only graduating with honors and she wasn't good enough to skip a grade for advanced math, she figured the only way she could make her mother happy was to do everything she asked her to.

Jocelyn called for Zaria to come down, and as expected, the sulking fourteen year-old complied.

* * *

_~ District 7 ~_

**Linden Alder, 13**

* * *

The sound of a cellphone ringing woke him up. It was two in the morning, and it only meant one thing. Any other thirteen year-old boy would have switched the phone off and jumped back into bed. But Linden Alder was a boy of thirteen who had done the exact opposite. Throwing his duvet to the side, Linden swung his legs out of bed and threw the doors of his dresser open. He slipped in a pair of faded jeans, and pulled a clean shirt over his head. Grabbing his jacket hanging by his bedroom door, he sprinted down the stairs.

His mother was already pulling her lab coat on by the bottom steps. She nodded at him when he joined her, but couldn't speak directly to him because her cellphone was in between her right ear and shoulder. She talked very quickly, but her words were clear and precise. Linden could vaguely hear the other person on the other line. He was starting to get worried. What could have happened in two in the morning that would drastically need his mother's assistance? He gulped, fearing the worst.

There was a small hospital by the center of District Seven. With majority of the working class in the District working as lumberjacks in the forests, the hospital was rarely ever empty. Linden had seen different sorts of injuries ranging from not so bad to completely insane. There were things had happened to people that he hadn't even known could still keep them alive. Still he found his mother's job as a doctor rather interesting, and ever since he was eight years old, he accompanied his mother to work almost everyday after school.

Even though he enjoyed being with his mother in the hospital, he experienced the haunting feeling of being unable to save someone from death, and it was something he could barely go through most of the time.

In the Alder living room, Linden's mother, Arlowe, still talked rapidly into her cellphone.

"Where did you find her?" she demanded.

Linden's ears perked up, automatically giving him the idea that the patient tonight was new, and she must have been in critical condition.

"Have you sent the truck for me yet?"

Right on time, a beep sounded from outside. Linden hopped up on his feet and briskly walked out the door. Arlowe finished her call, slipping her cellphone in her pocket. She cast a wary look down at her son.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to, Linden," she said gently.

"I'm going." Linden shook his head stubbornly.

"It's not any of the older patients," Arlowe assured him. "None of your friends are in any real danger of dying right now. Not even Asher."

Linden sighed in relief. Although he had already assumed the patient was new based on his mother's phone call, he couldn't shake the feeling of worry for his old friend in the hospital. Asher had been confined for as long as he knew, and with no family, the poor old man had been rather depressed sitting all day in his bed with no one to talk to. Linden though was kind enough to keep him company when his mother didn't need his help.

But even with Asher alive and well, Linden could not turn down anyone who needed help.

"I'm going," Linden said to his mother, his word final.

Arlowe sighed. "If you're sure. I'll be doing most of the work anyway. Poor girl. She was pushed into the dam at two in the morning without knowing how to swim."

"Who would push her in the dam?" Linden asked incredulously.

"Not important at the moment," Arlowe replied grimly. "What's important is that she is tended to as quickly as possible. Her name is Marvina Nova. Ever hear about her?"

"A year older than me." Linden shrugged. "That's about it."

Nodding and suppressing a nod, Arlowe slid into the back seat of the hospital truck. Linden followed after her, expecting the worst.

* * *

**Alana** '**Lana' Miranine, 15**

* * *

It was a slow day in the shop, but Lana was hardly surprised. They hadn't gotten many customers in the last years. She would constantly hear others exchange gossip about her father's flower shop even, though she had already trained herself long ago not to let this affect her. Both owners were completely deranged, they would say. But Lana knew it was all her father's doing that led them to a reputation like this. She had no part in it whatsoever, or at least that was just what she liked to say to herself.

To her, it was obviously her father's fault. He had abandoned his shop for a six year-old to tend to it by herself. Lana though actually had not minded. Her carnations were starting to wilt in the dark of her room. Placing them around the brightly lit shop let them bloom into something more beautiful, and really it was the only thing that had mattered to Lana. The one thing that her father could never take away from her were her flowers, no matter how much he detested her for what happened the night her mother died.

The bell that hung by the door tinkled, and Lana sat straighter on her chair behind the counter. She sighed in disappointment when she identified who stepped in.

"Hey, Lana," sixteen year-old Hannibal Crew greeted his fellow fair-haired friend with a smile.

Lana returned it with small smile of her own, but it immediately fell when she felt something suspicious with the way he was eyeing her.

"Hello," Lana replied. "What brings you here?"

"Why, can't friends have a one-on-one talk once in a while?" Hannibal chuckled.

"You're here for something else," Lana quickly said, making the older boy raise his eyebrows at her. She immediately composed herself, realizing her mistake.

Hannibal cleared his throat. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask about Marva."

"What's there to ask?" Lana shrugged, but put a little sympathy in her tone. "It's a good thing someone found her before things could get worse. Do you have any idea who did it?"

"I do actually."

Lana's eyes darted to him, but were back on her table of yellow carnations in a second. Hannibal hadn't missed the action.

"Do you know about her cat?" Hannibal asked. "Her cat's ears were sown down his cheeks, and he's missing a tail."

Lana's eyes widened. "That's barbaric. She could always get a new one."

"You're missing the point, Lana. That cat was found by the dam, near the edge where she was pushed."

"So you think the cat has something to do with this then?" Lana laughed mockingly.

"Someone did that to that cat," Hannibal said, getting serious, "and I'm sure that it wasn't Marva."

Lana sighed rather impatiently. "I don't understand why you're getting so worked up about this, Hannibal. Marva's fine now. The best doctor in the District is said to be treating her right. If you're still worried, we can go visit her later."

The boy nodded and exhaled, running his fingers through his blond hair.

"Yeah, let's do that. But Lana, she was at your house that night right? I remember her saying she needed to talk to you about something."

"Yes, but then she left early to do some homework," Lana replied.

"Right," Hannibal mumbled, an easy smile back on his face. "Yeah, well I'll be off. See you later, Lana."

The faint tinkle of the bell echoed in the near empty shop when Hannibal stepped out. Lana let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding as he spoke earlier. She buried her face in her hands, calming herself down. For a second there, she was worried that he knew. She was worried that he had connected all the dots that lead him to all his answers. But he hadn't, and Lana was safe.

Moving away from the counter, she approached her displayed carnations. Her eyes locked on one, and her fingers brushed the soft petals. She could almost hear her mother in the back of her head, calling her name. A soft smile tugged on her lips.

"Mama would not think I'm a murderer," she whispered to herself.

Then an ugly scowl replaced the light expression on her face, and the real Lana Miranine was unmasked. She fisted her hand, crumpling the flower in her palm.

"But Papa does."

* * *

_~District 8~_

**Ivanna 'Ivi' Keelan, 16**

* * *

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Ivi's eyelids shot open. Her arm stretched to the side of her bed, and her hand heavily slumped on her alarm clock. As soon as she successfully stopped the beeping, she sat up on her bed and stretched. A minute past six displayed on the digital clock on her bedside table. Looking out the window, the sun had barely risen. The trees swayed in the morning breeze, and the sky was a red-orange color that lit the murky sky. It was her father's favorite view to paint, and he was most likely awake by now too. Both Keelans were early risers, although Ivi liked to wake up early for a different reason.

Rolling out of bed, she put her dark red hair up in a tight ponytail. She pulled a clean set of clothes on, and slipped into a pair of dirty white trainers. After freshening up in the bathroom, she was ready to go.

Ivi did a few core exercises in her room first. She jogged in place for a minute, and dropped on all fours for push-ups. She did sets of thirty sit-ups and crunches, and jogged in place some more. The heavy thudding sounds her feet created must have woken up the entire house, but this hadn't registered in her mind until her stepmother came banging at her bedroom door.

"Do this outside Ivanna!" Polla snapped. She hadn't stopped banging her fist at the door until Ivi let her legs rest, and the quiet of the house resumed.

Polla slumped back to her bedroom, leaving Ivi to sulk about how unfair it was for her to stop her morning routine just for her stepmother to sleep. Still bitter about having to cut a part of her morning exercise short, she finally decided to jog a few rounds around her district to keep her mind off of things. But as she made her way to her front door, she passed by her stepsister's bedroom.

Deciding to check on Jezebel before heading out, Ivi pushed the door open and stepped in. She wasn't surprised to see the six year-old already awake, and she sat by the window with an easel. Her hair shined bright yellow from the light of the sun, and her green eyes darted from her painting to the view outside. She seemed to have gotten their father's skills in art, and Ivi had always been jealous of that.

"Awake already, Jezzie?" Ivi asked gently, sitting on the floor with her.

"You were making a lot of noise in your room," Jezebel said with a shrug, lightly tracing the edges of her painted sun with bright orange.

Ivi chuckled, feeling rather guilty. "Sorry. I didn't realize how loud I was."

"It's okay." Jezebel smiled at her. "I thought it was mummy and daddy fighting again at first. Good thing it was just you."

Ivi's smile fell at Jezebel's words. Right on cue, they heard the familiar sound of raised voices down the hallway. The redhead immediately ran to the door and closed it, twisting the lock. Jezebel had stopped painting. Ivi flattened her back at the door. She knew it was coming, but she never really felt ready for it. She could hear the roar of her father's words, and her stepmother's accusations. Jezebel stayed seated on the floor, blocking her ears with her hands. Ivi returned to her stepsister's side, grabbing her hand. She needed to distract her. She always needed a distraction during times like these.

Slipping the paintbrush back in Jezebel's fingers, Ivi guided her hand around the easel. Though she was an amateur painter, even compared to a six year-old, Jezebel seemed to find something calming in the way Ivi tried to distract her, and in the end, both Keelans were able to block off the fighting of their parents and slipped into peace with each other; just like they always did.

Ivi had almost forgotten that part of her morning routine was listening to her parents' first fight of the day, but really she did everything _to _forget.

* * *

**Kelvin Viper, 16**

* * *

It was eleven in the morning, and the town square of District Eight was packed. Almost as many people you would see during Reaping Day were there, and Kelvin was just lucky that he managed to snag a spot near the stage. Many had tried pushing him out of the way, but he had stayed put, refusing to let go of such a good place. He constantly extended his neck up, and his head wildly looked around. As he did, he finally caught a glimpse of a jumping black-haired girl, with her bangs falling up and down her forehead.

"Kelvin!" she called.

Chuckling a bit to himself, he waved her over. In an instant, she ducked down and wormed her way through the crowd. She was rather petite so it was no problem for her to get to Kelvin. She squeezed into the copper-haired boy's side with a grin on her face.

"Aren't you excited?" she said, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet.

"Very," Kelvin chuckled at her hyperactivity. "I haven't seen the victor since she arrived here after her games."

"Yeah, me either!" she exclaimed happily. "It's really exciting. She's like our first victor in a while. Who knows? Maybe she's the start of many."

Kelvin smiled at her. "What do you think she's going to talk about though?"

"Maybe she's going to give the future tributes advice?" Kiko shrugged.

Her mentioning the reaping made Kelvin's stomach flip in slight fear, although he already knew he and Kiko's chances were very slim. They both never had to take tesserae before, and they had gotten through three reapings safely already.

"I guess," Kelvin replied. "I mean why else would she come here and give a speech?"

"Exactly." Kiko nodded.

Silence fell amongst the two friends, but their ears perked up when they heard someone yell excuse me's from behind them. Looking around, Kelvin felt his stomach violently lurch with butterflies when he spotted Cord making his way towards the pair. When he squeezed himself in between Kelvin and Kiko, the trio was completed.

"Great spot, Kelvin," he panted, pushing his brown hair back. "We can see everything from here."

"Hey, Cord," Kiko greeted him before Kelvin could reply. "Where's your girlfriend?"

Kelvin's eye twitched. This didn't go unnoticed by Kiko, but she did not comment on it.

"She's somewhere," Cord vaguely answered her, keeping his eyes focused on stage.

"Really, I don't understand why you put up with her," Kiko said with a bitter snort. "She seems like a whore me. And quite frankly, you don't really look good together. What do you think, Kelvin?"

He was caught off guard when Kiko put him on the spotlight of their conversation. He tried to ignore the way Cord was looking at him as he waited for his answer.

"She doesn't seem that bad," Kelvin said untruthfully. He had never been very good at lying, and Cord knew this.

"BS," Kiko snorted at his lie. "I _know_ you don't like her either."

Kelvin avoided the look she gave him. There was something behind that statement, and Kelvin had a vague idea on what that something was. But he shook his head at the thought, stubbornly rejecting the idea he had formulated. She could not know. He had kept that one secret for so long so well that Kiko could not just figure it out by herself. Sure, he had never had an actual girlfriend before in his life, but he could pass as a normal guy who wasn't interested in that kind of relationship just yet. Maybe he just wasn't ready.

But looking at Cord now, he so desperately wanted them to know. He clung on to that small possibility that Cord was like him, and that they both held the same sexual preference. Then maybe it wouldn't be too hard for Kelvin to open up.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_Hiya. Here's the first batch of tributes. I kinda borrowed this format from Tales (TallTalesInk) but I'm doing this by 4 districts instead of by tributes. I'm doing this by districts because my favorite part of the tributes' lives before the games is kind of intertwining them with each other. Like I use some of the characters from one tribute's life and slip them into the life of the other tribute. An example is Peridot and Pompous. Allure is actually made by Pompous' creator, not Peridot's. I just wanted to use her to put emphasis on Peridot's past with her friends._

_Now that I have that cleared up, I hope ya enjoyed this chapter. I'd appreciate your thoughts. :)_

_~jess_


	3. The Youth Part 2

_**Chapter 2**_

* * *

_~ District 2 ~_

**Almond Casey, 18**

* * *

It was nearing sunset, and District Two was strangely peaceful at that time of day. In a narrow winding road, a boy of eighteen sat on the sidewalk just by the intersection, seemingly staring into space. Behind him was an ordinary two-story house with chipped windows and walls, and a couple strings of vines curling around the cement walls. Another boy with similar features as the first peaked from one of the windows of the second floor. His brown eyes narrowed at his brother seated on the sidewalk, wondering why on earth he was home at this time of day.

Muttering irately to himself, Aztec made his way out of the house and into their front garden.

"What are you doing home, Almond?" Aztec snapped.

Almond's head whipped around. His dark round eyes silently took in Aztec's presence, and then he grinned.

"Where else should I be?" Almond asked.

"Anywhere but wherever I am," Aztec spat. "Aren't you supposed to be training?"

"Aren't _you_ supposed to be training too?" Almond winked at his look-a-like. "That's right. We're _both_ ditching."

The younger scrunched his eyebrows. "That's weird. Why are _you_, of all people, ditching training today?"

"Because I felt like it," Almond said with a shrug, still grinning. "Haven't you ever done something just because you felt like doing it, Aztec? Or are you just too much of a little girl to do anything against the rules?"

Aztec's eye twitched. "If you've forgotten, I ditched training today too. _And_ I'm leaving to go see my friends."

Almond suddenly burst out laughing, leaning back to lie down on the ground as he clutched the side of his stomach. He was so loud that his laughter could be heard at the end of the street. Aztec was slowly losing his temper when Almond still hadn't stopped laughing after five minutes.

"I don't understand what's so funny," Aztec grumbled.

"I don't either," Almond chuckled, finally calming down a bit.

"You are crazy," the sixteen year-old declared.

Almond laughed some more. "Not crazy! Just a bit insane."

"And that just proved it," Aztec muttered. "You know what, maybe you actually have a chance in this year's Games. Everyone would probably just kill themselves because of you."

"Why haven't _you_ done that then?" Almond asked, looking up innocently at him.

"Trust me, I've thought about it," Aztec assured him.

"Me too." Almond nodded quite seriously for a second, but his grin was back on his face all too soon and he was laughing again.

But when Almond caught sight of someone walking towards them, he abruptly stopped. Curious, Aztec turned, wondering who could have possibly had the ability to shut his brother up. Both boys watched in surprise as their fair-haired sister neared their house. Her head was down as she held something up with her fingers and she walked very quickly. Almond's grin was back on his face when she realized that she was not alone.

"Don't tell me you're skipping training today too!"

Almond happily put an arm around her. Cinnamon timidly lifted her head up.

Aztec and Almond gasped. In between their little sister's lips was an unlit cigarette, and Aztec screamed at her to spit it out. Cinnamon did what she was told, looking up at both of her brothers as if she had not done anything wrong.

"What the hell do you think you're doing with a cigarette?" Aztec hissed, taking an angry step forward.

"Yeah, what do you think you're doing?" Almond laughed.

He bent down to pick it up. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket.

"You were doing it wrong!"

"Put it down, Almond!" Aztec growled at him, eyes flickering with rage. "Can you both please _stop it_? You're both trying to act like Carmel, but look where that attitude got her! _She's dead_."

At the mention of their dead older sister, Cinnamon burst into tears and ran into the house. Aztec and Almond watched her go, but with completely opposite facial expressions. Aztec looked rather guilty with his outburst, but Almond still grinned as he shook his head at his little brother.

"Not cool to mention Carmel, dude," Almond said with humor in his tone. "But good job on getting rid of Cinnamon 'cause she's kind of annoying anyway."

Having had enough of the Almond's insensitive nature, Aztec flipped his middle finger up at his brother. As usual, Almond was not fazed by Aztec's vulgar act. Shooting him one last glare, Aztec turned his back at his older brother and could not help but hope that he would not return after volunteering in two weeks.

* * *

**Laurel Haddenes, 18**

* * *

Files of trainees of all ages and sizes walked in the cafeteria of their training center with empty stomachs and a big appetite. District Two was all about being in order, and even the tables were each assigned to six specific people. Laurel seemed to be the only one in the room without a hungry look on her face. She was scowling instead, and once she took her usual place around her table, she looked like she was about to punch everyone around her.

"Are you alright?" a petite fourteen year-old named Cinnamon timidly asked.

The Casey girl sat in front of her, and Laurel was just about ready to stab herself with a fork. She didn't know what terrible thing she did in the past that made her deserve to sit directly across her.

"I'm fine," Laurel seethed but unclenched her fists.

"You don't look like it. Are you scared about volunteering? You're going to be going against my brother."

Laurel threw her a dirty look. "If you don't shut up, I'm going to tell Trainer Hammersmith that you really just ditched your archery training yesterday for nothing."

Cinnamon dropped her spoon. She lifted her head up to meet Laurel's eye, astonished.

"How'd you know that?" she asked shakily.

"Your brother likes to talk a lot," Laurel answered snippily.

Turning away from Cinnamon, she twisted her neck around to check if any trainer was watching. Internally rejoicing at the lack of supervisors, she took her plate and slid out of the bench. She briskly walked down the narrow aisle in between the rows of cafeteria tables. She could hear whispers and yelps as she passed, her fellow trainees wondering if she was purposely trying to get herself into trouble by leaving her assigned table. When she finally reached her destination, she slid into the bench right beside her best friend.

Toby looked to her left and nearly spat out her food. Hurriedly gulping down all the contents in her mouth, she shot Laurel a glare before speaking.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, her voice no louder than a whisper. "Get back to your place!"

"A Casey was there." Laurel rolled her eyes.

"Well you can't just–"

"I just did, Toby. You can't make me leave now. The trainer is watching again."

"Laurel, if you get everyone in this table in trouble, I swear–"

"He's not going to notice," Laurel cut her off again with a roll of her eyes. "Don't you want to listen to what I have to say?"

"What's so important that you risked leaving your place and going here?" Toby muttered, tugging on the ends of her blonde hair. "You could just tell me after. We're both in sword fighting after all."

Laurel grimaced. "I can't. I've already been worrying about it all morning. I mean I only just found out, and it's absolutely impossible but it's not because it's true! Does that make sense?"

"You tell me."

"This is no time for jokes, Toby!" Laurel snapped.

"Wha– How was that a _joke_?"

Laurel buried her face in her hands with a sigh. "Sorry, I'm just really weird right now. Mom– I mean, Aunt, guardian, whatever she is–"

"Aunt?" Toby exclaimed, her voice louder than her usual timid whispers. "Guardian? Laurel, she's your mother... She's your mother, _right_?"

Laurel opened her mouth to answer, but her last name boomed from the corner of the room. The entire cafeteria fell silent. The trainer made his way to Toby's table and looked down at them both. His icy blue eyes sent a chill down Laurel's spine, but she remained cool and composed as she stared back.

"Montello," Laurel dared to greet him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his words clear even if it seemed as if he was barely even moving his mouth.

"Talking about sword stuff," she replied lamely. "I'll go back now."

"You should," Montello agreed, narrowing his eyes at her.

Turning back to Toby, she offered her a small smile, hoping that she'd understand that she was okay. On her way back to her table, she tried her best not to lose her composure. She could not let the sudden hit on her emotional side affect her too much. She still had three days before Reaping Day, and she needed to be in the best condition when she would volunteer. But as she sat back down, the ache in her chest returned and her eyes stung.

"Stop it, Laurel," she whispered to herself, trying to forget about everything that already happened that day. "Nobody likes to see a leader get all emotional over something. There are more important matters at hand."

"Why are you talking to yourself?" Cinnamon asked.

Laurel blatantly ignored her.

* * *

_~ District 5 ~_

**Dune Faraway, 17**

* * *

Dune walked the streets of District Five with a rather unpleasant expression on his face as he went. He was taking his usual route, but he could not help but notice that there were more clumps of smoke in air than usual. Usually he could still inhale and exhale without having to cover his nose and mouth, but that afternoon had been different, and Dune wondered why.

As soon as he reached his destination, Dune burst into his apartment that luckily had been the first door of the first floor of the building. He dropped his hand to his side, slowly breathing in and out as he embraced the clean air. Smoke was never really much of a problem once a citizen of District Five gets used to it, but Dune could barely even see his way outside. It could only mean one thing, and Dune had already assumed it as soon as he smelled something burning.

Mrs. Faraway suddenly appeared from one of the rooms of their tiny apartment looking very alarmed. Her eyes scanned his sweaty face and only then did Dune realize that he must have gotten smudges of soot on his face. He pulled a dirty white handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his forehead and down to his cheeks.

His mother, Joule, shook her head with a click of her tongue. She shooed Dune away from the door and opened it slightly to be able to pop her head out for a second. As the door was closed once more, Joule sighed exhaustedly.

"Another accident," she mumbled sorrowfully.

"Another?" Dune exclaimed doubtfully. "But that would be the second one this week! There can't possibly be _another_ factory accident."

"You've lived in District Five long enough to know that these things do happen quite often," Joule explained to her son. "Sometimes houses just burst into flames and nobody would even know how it happened."

Dune narrowed his eyes and began to ponder on a thought. "It's odd, don't you think?"

His mother rolled her eyes." You're doing it again, Dune. You always think that there's something hidden behind everything. Really, these accidents do happen."

Dune drifted off into his mind as he began to really think about the situation. He blocked out his mother's voice as he focused. These things did happen quite often, but why do they really? In a place like District Five, fire was exceedingly dangerous. Dune did not understand why factories would be so idiotic to accidentally set something ablaze. He could understand houses because they were much more likely. Just leaving the stove on for too long could already cause something drastic, but factories? Now that was worth being suspicious about.

"Come to the kitchen, Dune," Joule said, walking into a smaller room with a small round table and a couple of kitchen appliances squished together to make some space for movement.

Dune sat lazily on one of the chairs and dropped his bag. He pulled out his homework for Panem History and dipped his head down as he began to write. Joule lit up the stove and began to cook strips of dried fish.

"How was school today?" she asked. "Anything new?"

"Not really." He shrugged, keeping his eyes focused on his paper. "Our lesson in my history class is about the Dark Days, and we've got to make some essay about it."

Joule hesitated. "I'm sure you can think up of some basic stuff."

Dune sighed exasperatedly. "Mom, you _know_ who'd be able to really help me about this stuff."

"You are not allowed to step in your grandfather's room, if that's what you're suggesting," she snapped.

Dune finally looked up from his work, palms flat on the table. "He's not crazy."

"Oh Dune, you're smarter than that."

"Fine, maybe he is," he began snippily, "but you've got to admit that he'd offer some really good facts about his time during the rebellion."

"The man can't even remember his own daughter's name," Joule huffed, voice cracking. "What makes you think he'll be able to tell you anything that makes sense about the Dark Days?"

"Because I actually listen, Mom," Dune replied softly, sensing the touchy topic.

Sighing, Joule dropped her spatula on her cooking pan and rested her head in her hands. Dune had not dared to speak, knowing that he had pushed her too hard with the topic of her father. She then turned to face her son looking more exhausted than she had before.

"Go do that in your room, Dune," she said. "I'll be setting up for supper and your sister should be home soon. I don't want you leaving either. Something's going on out there, and I'd much rather have you indoors at a time like this."

Without another word, Dune packed his things and exited the kitchen. He thought he heard his mother let out a choked sob, but he did not turn to confirm this. He hated to see his mother cry, but she seemed to be doing that a lot nowadays. His family was not exactly very high up with money, and his parents had to take care of two teenage children and his mother's father who couldn't even remember her anymore. Dune couldn't help but bitterly express how they deserved better, but things did not always work out.

Also despite his mother's restrictions, Dune stepped into his grandfather's room instead of his own. He was going to get this research paper done.

* * *

**Shaleh Turrent, 17**

* * *

There was a baby crying in her arms. Shaleh burst through a wooden door as the flames grew bigger by the walls of the four-cornered room. The door had taken her to another that was not any better. Shaleh bowed her head down, letting her thick red hair fall around her face as she covered her nose and mouth with her damp shirt. The baby continued to wail, making it very difficult for Shaleh to concentrate on her surroundings. She squinted through the smoke, her neck twisting round to spot the exit. A flash of bright light caught her eye. Her head whipped around for the source. Her heart stuttered in relief when she found a window. Best of all, no flames were blocking her from getting there.

Breaking into a sprint, she threw herself at the glass with one arm cradling the baby. She used the other to pull the window up. As soon as it opened, Shaleh breathed in the fresh air. She heard screams from below and looking down, she could see a middle-aged couple standing right below her. The woman, covered in soot, waved both hands in the air as she tried to get Shaleh's attention. She was crying, almost as bad as her baby did. The man was cleaner. In fact, he still wore his factory uniform and he was merely coated with sweat. He must not have been in the house when it happened.

The firemen had arrived. They burst into the burning house with their equipment. Shaleh watched them with awe. She had always liked their bright yellow uniforms.

It took a while for one of the men in yellow to notice her standing by the window. As soon as they placed a ladder by the brick wall, Shaleh climbed down with the baby still tucked under her arm. The mother was immediately by her side, forcefully taking the baby from her. Both parents walked away without a word. Shaleh frowned, expecting at least a thank you. It was why she did this in the first place.

Shaleh sighed and turned, watching the firemen extinguish the flames. As she watched the fire die down, she could feel herself getting more and more upset.

"It was fun while if lasted," Shaleh muttered once the fires were completely gone and all that was left was the ruined house.

She was always surprised at how much destruction fire could cause. When she first flicked open a lighter and watched the flames dance, she couldn't imagine that it would be able to hurt anyone. It looked too beautiful to cause any harm, but Shaleh was wrong. Fire could burn down an entire civilization. It was then when she developed a fascination for burning things as well. At random times, she'd take a piece of paper and light the corner. She would watch the flame turn the entire paper into ashes, and then she'd feel giddy inside.

Looking up at the burnt house, Shaleh could feel a tingling sensation on her fingertips. Her hand twitched to pull something out of her right pocket, but Shaleh shook her head and resisted knowing that it was too risky.

The father of the baby Shaleh had saved approached her. She immediately turned her facial expression from rather depressed to concern. He offered his hand and Shaleh took it, offering him a sad smile.

"Sorry for the house," she said, inwardly laughing at how true her statement had been.

"Yes, it's rather sad," he chuckled, attempting to smile but failing. "We've had this house for years. We were planning to raise Isaac here."

Shaleh frowned, hoping she had known that beforehand.

"Oh," she mumbled. "I hope you can find some place else, I suppose?"

The man shrugged. Then he finally offered her a genuine smile. "I believe my wife and I haven't thanked you for saving Isaac. I apologize for my wife for just taking him without saying anything. She was just really worried."

"I understand, sir," Shaleh replied.

"Call me Coby," he insisted. "And you are?"

"Shaleh Turrent."

"It's good meeting you, Shaleh."

Coby opened his mouth to speak again, but he hesitated.

"Were you able to see how exactly the fire started?" he finally asked, looking hopeful.

Shaleh was suddenly very aware that her palms were sweating, and her urge was getting stronger and stronger. She gulped, but did not risk losing her composure. She slipped her hand inside her right pocket and pulled out something small and metallic. She hid her hand behind her back as she fingered what she held.

Her finger traced the opening and with one flick of her thumb, the flame was free.

"No," Shaleh finally replied. "I have no idea who started it."

She sighed in relief when the man left. She only looked forward to what came next. She'd be the talk of the District. She was Shaleh, the girl who saved people from fire. But then again, she was also Shaleh, the girl who started them.

* * *

_~ District 6 ~_

**Nyomi 'Nim' Harley, 15**

* * *

Nim sat on her father's armchair. It smelt like alcohol and his cheap cologne. There were cuts all over. Some were small, sort of like scratches from a cat or fingernails. Others were very big, as if someone had used a knife on it. She felt something beneath her bottom as she sat. She knew this was probably where her father hid his bottles of alcohol and other "goods". But despite all these, there was a sense of comfort in the armchair, which was why Nim liked to sit on it.

She was waiting. It was already three in the morning, but she was not feeling sleepy at all. In fact, she was very alert as she sat with a straight back and her eyes were focused on the front door. Rarely did she ever complete eight hours of sleep that a young girl her age was supposed to have. There were bags under her dull blue eyes and she tied her stringy blonde hair back to keep it from covering her face.

Nim's father arrived at half past three. She was falling asleep by then but she jolted wide-awake when the doorknob began to jiggle. She heard her father curse as he probably attempted to slide in his key, but the hole was too tiny for him to see in his drunken state. Nim was about to open the door for him from inside the house but then she fell back on the chair, ultimately deciding to let him suffer for a while. It was his fault for getting home so late anyway. She should have been sleeping by now.

It took him exactly eight minutes to finally open the door. As soon as he stumbled in, his eyes narrowed at his daughter who was curled up comfortably in his chair.

"How long have you been here?" he slurred, leaning against the wall for support.

"Oh, I never left," Nim replied. "I've been here since you were gone. I was waiting for you to come back."

"There's no need for that," her father said with a snort. "I can take care of myself well enough."

She rolled his eyes at him.

"You're forgetting who the father is here, Nim," he snapped. "Go to sleep."

"You could have at least told me where you were going," she shot back.

"You know where! I was with old Markus and the gang. You know what we do, Nim. I can't let you in those stuffs."

"I'm already in," Nim muttered, hugging her knees to her chest.

Sighing, her father squeezed into the little space beside her on the armchair. He pulled Nim into his arms. She hadn't minded even if he did reek of alcohol. Nim had always been proud of how she managed to get him somewhat sober without having to make him take anything. Just by talking to him would already put him in the right head.

"I don't want you part of this," Nim's father whispered to her. "It's too dangerous for you. Even Oliver has more experience and he's only sixteen. You're just fifteen and starting, Nim. You have to stay in the house. I'm not allowing you to go back there."

"I have to watch you." Nim shook her head. "Something might happen to you."

"I've been doing this for years," he chuckled. "Nothing's happened."

"Oh really?" Nim swung round to face him. "People go insane and die of overdose all the goddamned time, Dad. What makes you think it won't happen to you?"

"Because I've got you, Nim," he insisted. "You're what keeps me living in this damned world. Other people have got no reason to live anymore but I've got you."

Nim sighed, snuggling closer to her father. She knew what kind of person he was. He drunk bottles daily and wasted all his extra cash on illegal drugs. He was a runner himself, someone who delivered the packages straight from the source to those around District Six. Six had the most addicts and Nim never understood why. She wished her father would detach from that sort of doing, but it seemed that day after day he was becoming more and more into it.

Growing up without a mother was never easy, and sometimes Nim would feel that roles had switched between her and her father. She was the parent most of the time, scolding him for coming home past his curfew and telling him that she just wanted to best for him and his future. But what other future could he possibly have? Nim did not know.

"Go to sleep, love," Nim's father whispered in her ear as her eyelids began flutter to a close. "Everything's going to be okay."

As she fell into a deep dark slumber, Nim felt a tug in the bottom of her stomach. Somehow she knew that things weren't going to be as okay as her father had hoped. With the reapings coming up, something disastrous was bound to happen.

* * *

**Cambric 'Cam' Araujo, 14**

* * *

Cam woke up to someone knocking furiously at his bedroom window. He was never much of a morning person so when he forced himself to climb out of bed and pulled his window open, he growled at his ginger-haired friend who was grinning from ear to ear. Although even when his best friend was waking him up way too early on a Saturday, he couldn't bring himself to snap at him. Instead he took a deep breath and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Is there anything you need?" Cam asked calmly.

He sounded completely civil with no trace of irritation in his tone. This was what Kothe loved about him. He never really got angry, which was why Kothe got away with being the irritating best friend.

"We've got a game," Kothe happily replied. "Grayson's already waiting."

Cam blinked at him, hoping he was kidding. He was not going to play. Not at seven on a Saturday morning. Kothe had to be pulling his leg. That was what he did. He tended to play a lot of jokes on people. Cam wouldn't be surprised if this were one of those times.

So the taller of the two laughed, patting the redhead on the shoulder as if he were saying _'Good one, dude!'_. Before Cam could collapse back on his bed though, Kothe grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. This time, he wasn't smiling.

"Dude, I'm serious."

Fifteen minutes later, Cam and Kothe were walking side by side in their baggy shirts and shorts. They were a rather comical sight to see as Kothe was bouncing on his heels as he walked and Cam sulked by his side. He suppressed a yawn once they reached the playing field since Grayson was impatiently waiting by the fence. Cam rolled his eyes at his appearance, judging by his ragged look he probably didn't bother to do anything to freshen up.

"Should Kothe and I keep a distance because your breath probably smells bad?" Cam snickered.

Kothe burst into giggles.

Grayson shot him a glare. "Get your act together, Cambric. We've got a game to win today."

"Stop being so serious, Gray," Kothe chuckled, slinging an arm over his shoulder. "Cam was just kidding around. You know we don't get that many jokes from him."

Cam playfully punched him on the shoulder. "That's because you hog all the good ones."

Kothe gave him an arrogant smile. Grayson had shrugged the arm off his shoulder when he spun round with narrowed eyes. Cam and Kothe turned to the same direction and finally understood Grayson's uneasiness.

They were going against the their biggest enemy in the world of Demi Ball. The one who invented Demi Ball was the father of the leader of the gang, Demi Hesley. The game was very popular among teenage boys nowadays. It was similar to the ancient ball game called soccer except Demi Hesley tweaked the rules a bit. Although the goal (which was to score as most points as the team could) was still the same, Demi Ball was a rougher version of soccer and for Cam, he much rather would prefer playing soccer instead.

Dakota Hesley strutted towards the trio. He was just as tall as Cam but two years older. He had the ball under his arm and four of his cronies followed behind him. They were all big and ugly and Cam had never liked to associate himself with them. They had even confronted him in school a few times, asking him if he wanted to hang out with them. He apparently was a good enough Demi Ball player to join them, but he had never thought of ditching Grayson and Kothe to join Dakota. It would be the last thing he'd ever do.

"Ready to play, midgets?" Dakota taunted them with a sneer.

"Bring it, Hesley," Grayson shot back.

Dakota scanned our team and began to laugh. Grayson frowned, unable to pinpoint what exactly was funny.

"You need at least five to a team," he said making Grayson's face fall.

He swiftly turned around, facing Kothe and Cam looking very panicked.

"Where are Sulia and Suraj?" he demanded.

When he wasn't provided an answer, Dakota laughed again. He seemed to enjoy seeing Grayson panic over his team. Grayson began to pace, trying to think of ideas on how to form a complete team of five. Dakota began giving out insults, towering over Grayson as he bullied him. Kothe stood stiff behind his best friend and for once, he didn't know what to say. Surprisingly Cam did.

"Hey, Dakota!" he snapped. "Why don't we just play three on three? It's obvious that we've got no full five."

"Three on three is practice, Cambric," Dakota snorted.

"Well three is all we've got," Cam shot back. "Take it or leave it."

Dakota began to sound more annoyed, his eyes flashing. "I'm not doing three on three in a game."

Cam crossed his arms. "Fine. Go leave then. Never thought you'd be the type to run from a game."

That line had gotten to him and in no time Dakota was yelling out orders at his team. Grayson shot Cam a grateful smile.

* * *

_~ District 10 ~_

**Melisent Ontone, 17**

* * *

Two redheads hid behind a berried bush by the Garner's farm. Pollina Garner was milking her cow into her silver bucket and her husband Maxim was feeding the chickens. From behind the bush, two heads popped up at the same time. They were almost indistinguishable from each other as they were exactly alike. Two pairs of gray eyes narrowed at the Garner couple. The one on the left scoffed and fell on her knees, concealing herself once more. The one of the right still stood on both knees and continued to spy on the Garners.

"It's no use, Melisent," the redhead seated on the soil mumbled in annoyance. "They're not leaving anytime soon."

Melisent looked down at her sister Melanie. Finally she lowered herself to the ground and sat by her sister. They were both completely out of ideas.

"You're the smart one," Melisent said. "You can think of something, can't you?"

Sighing Melanie nodded as she decided to give it one last shot. She stood on her knees and popped her head out again. Then her eyes widened and she grinned. She bounced up on her feet and Melisent cursed in surprise.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed, tugging at Melanie's shirt to bring her back down. "You'll be seen!"

"Melisent, they're gone!" Melanie squealed in delight.

Unable to believe it, Melisent stood on both feet cautiously. Indeed both Garners had gone, but that was impossible. They were there just a minute ago. How could they just disappear all of a sudden? Of course only Melanie could answer that, as she was the observer in these situations. Melisent was simply the sneaky one. If Melanie could think of the plans, Melisent was the one to put them into action.

"Maxim still hasn't fed the group of chickens in that pen over there," Melanie pointed to the furthest of the chickens. "The bucket of milk is still half full and under the cow meaning Pollina still hasn't finished. They probably forgot something inside. Maxim probably just ran out of chicken feed and Pollina's helping him find it! Either way, they're both inside and we've got approximately five minutes to get what we need."

"Is the milk enough for us to split?" Melisent asked, biting her lip nervously.

"Enough for a day's meal, Mel," her twin said cheerfully. "Come on. I'll be the look out. Work fast."

And they were off. Melisent had no idea how many times they had done this. She already knew their whole routine. The Garners never even suspected them, which was the best part. Melanie was a faster runner of the two so she was in the lead. She hoisted herself over the fence and landed on the both feet, nearly losing balance. Melisent swung her legs over the fence a few seconds after but instead of racing towards the back door like Melanie did, she ran to the bucket of milk under the cow.

All she needed to do was take the bucket from its handle, but its contents hadn't looked as much as it did from afar. She could vaguely hear Melanie whisper her name, probably to tell her to get a move on. Melisent looked to the back door. Nobody seemed to be on his or her way out. She just needed a few minutes.

Sitting on the plastic stool, she slipped on the gloves left on the grass and began to milk the cow. Thankfully she was skilled because she used to own one herself before her mother had to sell it. She tried to work as quickly as possible without having to hurt the cow and she could feel that Melanie was glaring daggers at her back and the only thing keeping her from screaming at her sister was the fact that they were on a mission.

She heard a small crash of metallic objects from inside the house. A string of curses came from Maxim Garner's mouth and Melisent's hand slipped. They began to shake a bit, but she was too stubborn to stop now. The bucket was nearly filled. She just needed a bit more time. Suddenly she heard Pollina Garner's voice, scolding Maxim for the mess he made in the house. Melisent did not dare turn to look at Melanie who was probably seething with rage. She'd be thanking her though once this was all over. They'd be having milk enough to last at least a week after this.

"You better clean this quick, Maxim. I've still got to milk the cow outside!"

"_Melisent! Get your sorry ass out of there!_"

She did not know which was worse. Pollina's words from inside, making her hands nervously shake or Melanie's furious whispers. Melanie was too afraid to leave her place beside the door in case Maxim and Pollina were to come out so Melisent was one her own.

Finally the bucket was filled and she was ready to leave. Unfortunately the weight of the milk slowed her down. Even with Melanie's help, they had difficulty in carrying the bucket to the fence. They couldn't jump over it like they did in entering because all the milk would spill. Melanie jumped over first and ordered for Melisent to lift it over. After transferring the milk over the fence in success, Melisent pulled herself up and over as well and only then did Maxim and Pollina return.

As they carried the bucket of milk to Melisent's home, Melanie faced her, panting hard.

"That could have gotten us caught," she said but she was smiling. "You are absolutely insane."

* * *

**Caleb Trainor, 17**

* * *

The laboratory was already closed. The last of the employees had locked the doors and closed the gates, making sure that all necessary lockdowns were in check. They worked in the biggest lab in Ten and worked with the deadliest of animals. The Capitol had provided them of all equipment. One glass container could feed a starving family in Ten. So workers were very particular with their lockdown every night. They made sure nobody was going to be able to break in.

But little did they know that the one who intended to break in in the first place was a worker himself! Caleb Trainor of seventeen snuck in the lab in the dead of night with only his key and I.D. He snuck in swiftly and quietly. With a single scan of his I.D., he was able to bring back the light of the lab. The deadly feeling of being alone sent a chill down his spine. His mother constantly reminded him never to step foot inside the building without adult supervision unless it was working hours.

Caleb never really thought things through. Even then he did not have a single idea on why he was breaking into the lab in the dead of night when he was returning in the afternoon after school the next day anyway. Maybe it was because he liked the feeling of being in a place he loved and surrounded by species that he felt even more comfortable around than regular human beings.

His fellow peers hadn't liked talking to him very much. A reason would possibly be because Caleb himself has not bothered with any kind of socializing with adolescents his age. Another possible reason is because he associated himself with the kind of work that majority of the citizens in his district had ever since despised.

It was the kind of work that screamed '_I love the Capitol!_' to them and it gave them the wrong idea. Caleb did not really understand nor did he bother to find understanding in it. The last thing he wanted to study were the motives of the people around him. He rather found the scientific way of understanding human beings more enjoyable to him. He had always tried not let what others thought of him affect him too much but the only way to keep his mind away from the reality outside the lab was to be _inside_ the lab which was why he used every second of his spare time behind his desk, working on his new experiments.

Caleb entered Room XXX of the laboratory. It was where his mother's office was located and where she worked on her latest subjects. It was Caleb's favorite room in the entire lab. Room XXX only held the most dangerous of species and more than often are the beings here shipped off to the Capitol especially when it's only a few weeks before the Games start. Caleb always felt a rush of sadness in seeing his mother's creations boarded into a hovercraft only to be used as toys and lapdogs by the Gamemakers.

As Caleb hung around in the room, he observed the six pairs of glass doors. They were situated around in a half circle, surrounding the long tables of microscopes and computers. Above each pair were scientific names of the animals used to create the new species. The most common used were dogs and wolves as they were one of the easiest to undergo mutation.

All of the six pairs of glass doors were padlocked but one. Caleb approached the one with no lock, wondering why anyone who worked in this room would be irresponsible enough to keep one of these doors unlocked. There was only one name above the doors: _Eunectes murinus_. As he read this, Caleb recognized the name almost immediately.

_Eunectes murinus_ otherwise know as the green anaconda, is a very large, semiaquatic, non-venomous boa species. They are known for squeezing their victims to death and are one of the largest snakes in the entire world. How on earth Caleb's lab was able to get one of these was beyond him. The plaque below the name of the anaconda only had a big question mark painted on it.

Before Caleb could step in to see what was inside those glass doors, the door of Room XXX suddenly rose and a woman with dark hair and dark skin like Caleb's stepped in looking rather angry.

"Caleb, I told you never to go in here alone!" she scolded him with her hands on her hips. "Step away from those doors!"

But Caleb did not want to, and he found his mother's hostility rather irrational.

"I just want to see what you've got in here," Caleb said, taking a step closer. "It's not going to kill me, is it? It's probably in a glass case. Plus, I think it's a new mutation! We'll be able to see the early stages of experimentation. Doesn't that excite you?"

"_Caleb_, if you take one step closer–"

The door suddenly rose again and three Peacekeepers marched in.

"Mr. Trainor, step away from the doors."

Caleb wasn't about to defy the orders of the Peacekeeper, so he did what he was told. His mother rushed to his side and the pair watched as the Peacekeepers walked into the room of the anaconda. They carried a medium-sized glass case out, and Caleb was tempted to ask what was inside. It was covered by white cloth but as the Peacekeepers rushed out, the cloth slipped a bit to reveal a part of a case.

His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when he caught a glimpse of water and a slim green tail. He also could have sworn he saw sparks of electricity.

"Where are they taking it?" Caleb asked shakily.

When he met his mother's eyes, he already knew.

"The Capitol," she said.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_I'm back! Anyway here's the second batch and I have to admit that I had a lot of fun with them. I've realized my weakness in my introductory chapters though. It's really either I give more focus on the tribute's past or their personality. I try my best to put in both but it doesn't work out sometimes. So if the tribute lacks information on their past or their personality isn't portrayed very much, then now you know! It's hard since I really try to limit each of the introductions to a certain number of words. More will be revealed about the tribute as the story progresses._

_This format by the way will still show the reapings but it will all be in Franco's point of view most probably. The reapings will be posted after the last introductory chapter with the last set of tributes. __Sorry if I took too long for you (been terribly busy) but consider this update as a Christmas gift!_

_Also did anyone notice the hint about the arena? Should be pretty __obvious. If you have any guesses on how the arena will turn up, I'll be happy to hear them!_

_Happy Christmas everybody and as usual I would appreciate your thoughts on the chapter. :)_

_PS- If you think it's been too long since the story had an update, check my profile because I usually post updates on when I'll be able to post the next chapter._

_~jess_


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